The lesson of the Morning


Today I experienced that your surrounding is not only from which you can borrow some happiness, the thing that makes you happy is not what you see in front of you. There is something stirred everywhere and in every forest of concrete. Did you ever see yourself standing erect in the garden but it smells malodorous, I am pretty certain – it will take you a minute to come out of the garden.

The same thing, I came across today morning, when, having tightened my laces of joggers, I got out of my home to go wild, somewhere, far away, from the high frequented world with unheard but still piercing noise of overwhelming thoughts. It will be surely weird for you to beheld me writing the word “noise of thoughts” instead of mentioning “high frequency of people’s noise” but no! today an unheard but a soul-shaking noise is the reason of making anxious to everyone, a reason to make everyone wake up early in the morning.

So I was talking about my outing in the early morning. As I went for a walk, accompanied by my friend. There was the same sun with healing light because winter compels us to love the sun and to be healed from his light, Otherwise, apart from these three months, I have always been his staunch enemy. The air around us was as usual as it has daily been.

I was tired of watching the same routes, same heath-fields, and the same people: grinning, chuckling – and even though it was not that cold – coiled around the sparking coals reddened with fire. All the things were nothing to me – but an ultimate change in weather made me a person for whom all the things promptly turned from ‘to be hated’ to ‘to be liked.’

The air which was pregnant with nostalgia and longing now had begun to expect something quaint in her womb. The barren heath on which I did never bat an eye was alluring me to come and be mixed in his waving furry grass, which, just a moment before, was a husky bush.
It was as though, the houses I was passing by, just a moment before, were like the dead bodies lined across the street but now seemed to be reviving one by one as an archangel has been ordered from the royal court to blow life into them.

That morning taught me a lesson to not find happiness in a long minaret palace. She said, “Happiness is not something which can be extracted but created. Happiness is a breeze, happiness is an abstraction that can not be borrowed from an impregnable fortress. It can be bred in the hut of a shepherd, but if you don’t have a loving heart, it is impossible to hold within your house full of luxuries.
Happiness needs just a little reason to sprout, to sprout from the cracks of stone, to sprout from the commutation of weather, to sprout from the bottom of well. It’s your turn to get it whether wherever it is sprouting from. The more you let yourself be sad, the more, the grave in your heart will deepen.”

Having given this above statement that morning further added: take this one more lesson with you and when she was about to say something, I stopped her and began to say what her long eloquence did not let me say up till now, while her mouth, after my sudden starting, remained open for a bit of time and then closed.

You decreed: ‘Don’t Be Sad,’ but I sorrow on the word that is paid.
You said: it’s my turn to get it and I am tired of paying to which you call happiness.

She smiled ironically and said:
you are tired of running behind the world which is set up on your self-made criteria of happiness. you are sad because you think yourself sad and this is what makes you what you are not. The thing you are striving for is not what you want but it is something that you want to make others see in you. How vague hypocrisy you get along which takes you to that path goes straight to yourself. To comply with the natural rule of happiness – don’t set it up on the materialistic view of society because happiness connected with materials have no boundaries – today what you are longing for – will become the thing of the past for you tomorrow and this series of ambitions will be going on and forth.

What do you think, what happiness is?

“Fulfillment of Dreams.” I shortly said.

she laughed again but not in that arrogant way she did last time and said: I don’t discourage you to not see the dreams but living in dreams is something like an act of fool and from your side, this act is being played fairly.

If you want to know what real happiness is then look them down yonder – a circle of men – which, a moment before, you passed by. They, despite in ragged-overall and moth-eaten-footwear are happy because they are not regretted on what they don’t have but thankful for what they have right now.

Do you know that despite there is not that cold they are staking the woods up and burning them and trying to bring a situation that somewhat makes them happy?
You know, If the scene we are looking at were a painting and I was asked to name it, then what would I have named it.
I would name it:

“children looking for toys onto the trash”

Because, they, instead of getting the idea of those children born with gold-spoon in their mouth, find this notion good to remain inside their boundaries, and on their place, whether its a trash or something like the dirt and they think it best to find what is in their land.
It’s another thing that they were born poor but they too have a right to be happy and they – their right of being happy – are using prodigality.

she, after throwing a blow of cool breath out of his mouth, took a long breath inside and in a manner of that passenger getting late for her flight and trying to convey her best before departure, said:
don’t take me wrong that I am saying you to stay always there where you are.
no! no! not at all !!
I, in order to conclude what I meant, would like to put the essence of what I said into a shell and said:
“be happy on what you have, and strive for what you have not, and pass your journey of from ‘nothing having’ to ‘much having’ without desperation and faltering but with moderation and longing to do something good on your own instead of thinking of the cheap shortcuts.

she was done, disappeared, and mixed into every single particle of breeze – I was still standing uprightly – left with no words.
Someone suddenly holds me by my shoulder – he was Fayaz – my accompanied friend – said: where were you lost?

“She” I outrightly said.

Who she?

“Morning”

He pulled his eyebrows closer to each other, tried to fill the widened gap between them, and squinted to me in a very ambiguous manner and having taken a little glance of our environment around and thought of something, he paid a word:

‘Whatever’

and by adding that: ‘Oh come on Man’,
pulled me to recollect our back-left footprints and then we took our way back to our home again.

 

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